Picking Fights Carefully

1/17/2007

11:52 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (8% full).
It is currently 11:33 Pacific Time on Wed Jan 17 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.48 and steady, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)

Brownstone -- Basement Apt.(#3328RJ)
The basement of the brownstone has been split into two sections. The stairwell leads down into the northwest corner section, which contains the boiler room, furnace, and the elevator shaft. The rest has been converted into another apartment, and Signe's made it into a rather fortified one at that. The only entrance is through a re-enforced steel door with no less than three dead-bolts. There are absolutely no windows at all in any of the four concrete and brick walls. It's a rather stark but functional space. Overhead, the air ducts and plumbing pipes are exposed, while the cement floor is covered by a ragged dark wine and gold Oriental throw rug. A makeshift shelving unit of two-by-fours and cinder block has been erected along the length of the wall with the door, and it houses a stereo, tv and old vcr. Directly opposite this is a beat-up leather couch and two mismatched recliners. The kitchen is small but functional, with a round wooden table and four chairs. Half of the back end of the building has been walled off for a private bedroom, while the rest is open to the living area. This space has been converted into a home gym--complete with wrestling mats, weights, and a full weight boxing bag.
Contents:
Emma
Abraxas
Obvious exits:
Out  Bedroom  

Sure, Abraxas had shouted that they would deal with this right after the Revel. Without any actual time set though, the concept of 'right after' was far from the minds of those riddled with the full moon's influence. Waiting for the moon to wane, Kenneth finally arrives in random guess of Abraxas' whereabouts, not having spotted him in the farmhouse. After ringing the doorbell and such, he stands quite stoically and business-like, hiding as much of the tension that has laid itself down between himself and his tribemates in general.

And the moon is quite thin indeed...isn't it great? You wouldn't really know it looking at Abraxas, however. Whatever his tension levels were prior to the knock, they're ratcheting even before he has the door open, and the sight of Kenneth on the other side brings a truly ugly look to his features. He steps wordlessly out of the way to let the other Shadow Lord in.

In the backroom, the stereo plays just loud enough to signal someone else is around. Apprently, the Get homeowner is busy doing Get things in the privacy of the small room.

"Wasn't expecting to find you here," Kenneth says blandly, stepping in with a slow, but smart turn so that he faces the ahroun. A brief sniff from the philodox 'inspects' the room in a lupine mannerism, and he dares to look about particularly in the direction of the stereo playing. Then, he gazes back at Abraxas in silent anticipation.

Abraxas seems all the more sour at the other Lord's manner, and for a moment, he doesn't say anything at all; he just glares. Then, "...I challenged you. So what's it to be?"

Kenneth doesn't respond for a time. His ear attunes to the song on the radio, looking briefly distracted by its melodies, its harmonics. A blink or so after he answers in a turnaround of the question. "What do you want it to be?"

That seems to take him off balance. "That's your decision," Abraxas responds impatiently. "You know what /I/ fucking want it to be." Or, at the very least, he can probably make an educated guess, given how the Ahroun is clenching his fists.

"So you mean to tell me that you wanna throw down right here," Kenneth continues evenly despite reading and somewhat reflecting the growing tension from the ahroun, "in territory that don't belong to the either of us? Could get messy." And the way he says it, there's an implication of more than one type of mess for such an aftermath.

Abraxas snorts loudly, audibly expelling some of the built up pressure as he glances toward the source of the music. "Not here," he says tightly. "Besides, I didn't think you would pick a fight."

Kenneth likewise looks towards the music again, and then back to the ahroun. "And I haven't, yet," the halfmoon states with a fold of his arms on his chest and an evaluating gaze. "What exactly do you hope to prove out of this?"

Abraxas meets the gaze with his own, though habit has him avoiding direct eye contact. "Prove? /Prove/? You and your little Strider buddy seem to think I'm unfit to cleanse the Wyrm. He as much as said that I was /tainted/. The first time I've been able to so much as spit in the direction of the Wyrm in over a fucking month, and not only do you have a little tantrum with that Fury bitch long enough for our prey to get away, you prevent me from being able to do /anything/ at all!"

Kenneth sucks in a hard breath, exhaling slowly in a heavy hiss to maintain his facade of calm. "I never so much as /uttered/ that word in your direction, and you know it. That was the Strider's talk, not mine, so don't even group us together. /You/ were being disruptive of the Rite of Cleansing," the philodox growls, fine to meet eyes as dead on as need be, "and were told to leave because of it. The way I see it, /you/ were throwing the tantrum." He pauses just long enough for that set of words to sink in before adding, "What happened between Treeclimber and I was a challenge between ourselves to see who would lead the second group. You want to fault me for taking a place up front when none was appointed at first?"

"I wasn't being disruptive until he started trying to keep me from helping," is Abraxas' return hiss, and then, after a beat to digest the fact he's still pointing the finger at someone who isn't here, a ripple of temper makes it's way through his features. "...If you two weren't working together, then what the fuck was his problem? I've never even met him before."

The stereo goes into a lull of silence, either due to commercial or by way of the dial lowering. It remains low for a moment more, before the music kicks in again.

"I never saw 'im before, and if I did, then he's just that forgettable," Kenneth claims, taking a verbal step forward. "The point is, Abraxas, Leslie and I knew damn well what we were doing and if everyone'd just shut up and let us get done with our thing, it would've been done long before those guys who dumped that shit could've got away. In any case, Stace solved it by puttin' that other guy in charge. And seems to me, you got a bigger problem with him than you do with me." The halfmoon blinks once, the only indication he's taken note of the stereo quieting.

Abraxas's temper seems to have dropped into a low simmer--visible, but not as likely to explode. "...Yeah," he says finally. "I do." The metis draws himself up, and this time he does look at Kenneth, straight. "You say I'm not tainted?" And then, before he can answer, he adds a growly,"--and if I'm not being disruptive, I'm fit to help with rites?"

Kenneth lifts his chin proudly, teeth sliding over each other for a second before he nods slowly. "Long ago, I'd've maybe thought different. And I did, that one time when Dwight and I first spotted you. But blood got spilt over that long ago - I'd think that'd've dried up by now. Anyone with a working brain cell can see you're fit to fight much as the rest of us." His gaze slides back towards the private room, waiting a second, and then flicking back to the ahroun. "As for rites, I'll do you one more. You want to prove yourself able and willin', then do it. Lead the next Revel, and show up that sumbitch Strider what it's like to be a real warrior for Gaia."

A rather ... loud? rendition of a current Clarkson hit is suddenly accompanied by a voice that can only be Emma's. 'Since you been gooooone...' Thank Gaia for hardwood doors.

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. If Abraxas was caught off guard before, he's caught completely and utterly by surprise this time. There's a moment in which he regards the other Lord with clear, unmasked suspicion, but that too seems to melt away, and he's left flat-footed and speechless. Or at least, for a few moments. "...No one would let me lead a Revel," he says finally. "But I fully intend to show that fuckhead my claws are as sharp as his, if not sharper."

"Uh, hello?" Kenneth eyes the ahroun back, but this one with a sense of disbelief. "You're let into the caern. You're let on Revels. You're let on just about every damn battle you want to get your claws into, and aside from that shit with the Walker kin way back when... for fuck's sake, the Sept Alpha is your fuckin' tribemate. I thought it was tradition to ahrouns to challenge each other for the right to be Wyrmfoe." His eyes turn on the chorus, narrowing a bit, and then resuming their normal, somewhat tipped just off-neutral stare. "I don't give if you wanna sharpen your claws on him, but you oughtta think about lasting impact in a... more helpful sense. You cut him up, and he'll remember you. You cut the Wyrm up when you're leading a Revel, then everyone'll remember."

The stereo cuts out and the door opens to reveal a somewhat freshly showered Emma. She stops, pausing to look out with a somewhat blank stare. The tension she might have expected is felt, but in a dose far, far less than what she might have been bracing for. "Kenneth," she says in way of greeting before glancing to the metis. "Don't mind me."

Abraxas's shoulders start to hunch, before he remembers himself and visibly keeps himself from doing it. The ahroun seems to still be mentally scrambling for his footing. "What you said when I snapped at you," he growls. "Is partly true. I don't know how to lea--" He stops as Emma arrives, giving her a faint, acknowledging nod. "--Even if they wouldn't rip me apart for trying. I've never done it before."

Kenneth's arms slip from his chest to his sides, hands slipping into his pockets. When Emma comes out, he too lowers his eyes and head in an acknowledgingly submissive nod. "Emma-rhya," he greets her. "Sorry for bringing this out onto your territory here in the Brownstone. I didn't think I'd find my tribemate here, but it was more efficient to get this cleared up as soon as possible." He then glances back towards Abraxas again, eyes on him. "It's harder than it looks, but sometimes you just gotta suck it up and don't take a challenge in a time of war. All I'm saying is, think about it. If you want it, then go for it and don't let no one stop you."

Emma looks between the two as she moves to the kitchen. "No problem Kenneth. Abraxas has an open invite to the Brownstone. He's been helping with patrols while Laura is all fat and lazy." She smiles a little at this, apparently jesting in fondness of the situation. Her attention shifts to the Ahroun once more, "You have instincts Abraxas. Probably a bigger helping than most of us start with, and they will rarely mislead you if you are in tune with them."

Abraxas grimaces, both at Kenneth and Emma. "I already think about it, all the time. And I think it would be a fast route to an early grave, even for an Ahroun. You can only lead if people will follow you, and I'm not sure they wouldn't kill me the moment I turned my back."

Emma clicks her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head. "Look at me man, I am like... five feet tall. There are midgets that are taller than me. Did I let that stop me from leading? No, I stepped up, buttoned my confidance on and got it started. I'll tell you though. You want people to follow you, then you need to convince them you are leading them to -their- glory, and not just a bunch of tag-alongs on your own search for it."

Abraxas's frown deepens. "How do I do that?" The question is clearly genuine, and his eyebrows are practically scrunched together.

"By remembering that you," Kenneth finally contributes as he glances towards Emma briefly, "are a Garou." Seemingly done with just that one sentence, the philodox starts to turn for the door. He does, though, pause halfway and glance back. "Abraxas. We done?"

Abraxas looks back at Kenneth. He seems to consider this for a moment, but the answer is obvious before he gives it. After all, the imminent explosion has definitely gone away. "...We're done," he says firmly.

Emma looks between the two and offers nothing more than a silent grin- one that is not laced with sarcasm or sign of smirk. She turns back to the kitchen and begins rummaging in the fridge.

Kenneth nods to confirm the end, cutting his end of the proverbial fuse. "Then I'll see you two around," he notes as his departure. "Emma-rhya. Abraxas." A hand reaches out and pulls the heavily reinforced door open with some small effort, and the philodox steps out.

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